Burlesque
by emeralddusk
Summary: After producing two flops, Maxwell Sheffield produces an erotic musical, endangering his relationship with Fran: Carly learns about self-beauty: Chase, Chad, Logan, Freddie, and Beck are Chippendale dancers.  Discontinued...I am more sorry than you know.


**After producing two flops, Maxwell Sheffield produces the biggest, most eccentric erotic show of its time. How will Fran Fine, his loving, devoted nanny respond?**

**Carly joined the cast of Nine to discover self beauty. Jade does it to make money off her good looks, and has been performing for years. Zoey is doing it to get money for college. Tori wants to prove to the world that she is not the same "little kid" she was when she starred in Our Home. No one knows why Cat's here. Miley does it because her singing voice is desired the world over. Sonny does it because she's a world-famous dancer. Quinn wants to make a new name for her nerdy self. The "Tanner Twins", Stephanie and D.J. are here to wow the audience with their Dynamic Duo of good looks and talent.**

**Chase, Freddie, Beck, Logan, and Chad become Chippendale dancers to impress everyone they know and make a fortune. However, they face self-consciousness, legal issues, and Chad's deepest secret.**

Burlesque

Chapter One: Failure

"Maxwell Sheffield, who was once considered one of the finest play directors in New York has certainly been off his game lately," said a middle-aged Caucasian reporter with brown hair around his head.

The man watching television changed the channel to find an African-American female reporter speaking. "Mr. Sheffield, who latest works were the financial and critical flops known as "My Life and Career" and "The Butler Didn't Do It" has recently faded into obscurity," she said, her voice somewhat condescending, at least in Maxwell's eyes.

Finally, the Englishman shut off his television, and covered his eyes with his hand, devastated. Outside, the sky was black and cold, reflecting his shattered emotions.

"Come on, Mr. Sheffield," said Niles, Maxwell's butler, gently grabbing the man's shoulder. "That's enough self injury for one day. Time for bed."

Getting off of the couch, the Englishman walked up to his bedroom, the growing streak of gray hair on his head shining in the dim light of the hallway. Passing by his youngest daughter, Gracie's bedroom, Maxwell stopped, let out a depressed and remorseful sigh, then continued on, keeping his head down.

"Come on, Mr. Sheffield," greeted Fran, meeting her employer by his bedroom door. As usual, her voice was high-pitched and nasally, but tonight, it showed deep compassion and empathy. "We can get through this. Everybody gets rough patches in their careers. I mean...look at my life."

"I'm not in the mood, Ms. Fine," Maxwell replied, sorrow and defeat drowning over his voice as he proceeded into his room, closing the door behind him.

The Jewish woman stared at the dark wooden door in front of her: the door her beloved Maxwell never opened for her...or himself. Fran turned around, and went into her room, where she knew she'd spend every night alone, her ring finger naked for the rest of her days. At times like this, giving up seemed all too rational. No prince was coming for her, and no matter what she did, she couldn't make anyone love her.

Maxwell sat on his bed in his dark, empty room, and buried his eyes in his hands, feeling hot tears well up in his weary, puffy eyes. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he moaned through his palms, his words barely audible to even him. No matter how they sounded, though, the words meant failure to himself, his family, and his beloved wife. Everything Max had dreamed of was falling apart, and he had no one to blame but himself for it all. _Greatest director in New York... _he thought, growing furious at himself. _What a bloody joke._ The Englishman fell backwards on his back, splashing into the silk sheets atop his queen-sized bed.

Turning sideways, Maxwell spotted a magazine: Victoria's Secrets. What better way for a broken man to get away from his problems than with cheap thrills? Picking up the provocative magazine and flipping through the colorful, erotic pictures, Maxwell stopped at the picture of a full-figured woman with long, large, curly hair, and a blue piece of lingerie on, standing atop a cliff in front of the dark sky and the bright full moon. Her eyes were closed, and a look of bold destiny on her pure, flawless face. Suddenly, Maxwell got an idea so impossible, so insane, so passionate he could barely contain himself. _This is it, _he thought, his heart pounding and feeling like it was floating among the night's breeze. _Maxwell Sheffield is back! And bringing a storm with him!_

The next day, Mr. Sheffield went to an office and pitched his idea for "Nine". At first, no one wanted "Flop Boy", but after Maxwell began reading his brilliant script, the deep emotions he expressed, and the amount of money he was willing to put into it, a decision was made...

"Maxwell Sheffield to produce "Nine", promises most erotic production of the decade" was printed in large, bold letters atop nearly every paper in the East Coast.

Meanwhile, Chase Matthews stood in front of his locker, looking at all of the gorgeous girls, and, worst of all, the guys who walked with their arms draped over their shoulders. _I put out all this effort to get girls, and these guys get truck loads without trying, _Chase complained to himself. _What do I have to do to get just one girl who really cares about me? Who can see what I can really do? _Despairing, the teenager walked away, giving up for the day. _Maybe some guys are meant to be alone. _Letting out a defeated sigh, Chase left the school to retire to his dorm.

Ironic: West Coast versus East Coast, and East was winning.

**I'm deeply, truly sorry for you and myself, but I am truly terrified to continue this story. I wrote the rough draft of a second chapter, had Sonny's backstory planned out, had something for Cat, and even began to plan the ending, but if I do, then I won't have anything left to dream about. Sorry**


End file.
